


Weeds (Day 18: Christmas Past)

by my_achilles_heel



Category: Negan's Thirst Squad - Fandom, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Challenge Response, Christmas, Christmas Challenge, Daddy Kink, Dream Sequence, Dream Sequences, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foreshadowing, Ghosts, Ghosts of Christmas, Happy Ending, Haunting, Mild Smut, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Prophetic Dreams, Romance, christmas past, slight daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:56:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_achilles_heel/pseuds/my_achilles_heel
Summary: Negan is visited by two woman who made a significant impact on his life, and one who will come to change his very future, on then night before Christmas.For "A Very Merry Supernatural Christmas" Challenge, Day 18: Christmas Past.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for posting this so late! Despite being on winter break for law school, my personal life has been rather hectic with my family as of late, in positive and negative ways. I hope you can all understand, and that you'll enjoy the fic anyway! :)
> 
> Written to "Weeds" by Marina and The Diamonds.

Another day—another day back at the grind of surviving at all costs.

Everyone knows not to come knocking on my door between the end of the night and when I get up and leave to start the day, unless it’s a fucking emergency—and it better be one fucking hell of a fucking emergency, at that.

So it’s only inevitable that, once I step out of my place and I walk down the hallway of this old factory, Lucille slung over my shoulder with my two guards walking behind me, that I’m bombarded by Dwight or one of my other top men with the latest and pressing news.

Having already had breakfast, which one of my men got me for and brought back to my room like I usually request, I have no need to go to the cafeteria. Instead, I decide to start off my morning with a walk around The Sanctuary, looking at all the people working their asses off who I protect and make so many decisions to assure they’re safety that they aren’t even, and will never be, aware of.

The sound of my heavy footsteps from my boots on the concrete floor makes heads whip in my direction, and after I see eyes turn wide, before I pass some of my people who are in the midst of working, they drop to their knees with their heads down. I flash them a wide smile and give them a nod of my head. “ _Good fucking_ _morning_!” I say loudly, my body leaning back a bit as my voice fills this one hallway.

Once I’ve come to the end of the hallway, and I turn down to walk down the next, those people rise back to their feet and resume their work. And the same thing happens with every hall I pass, until I make my way to the bottom floor where most of the workers are. My footsteps make the grated platform shake and rattle, and I whistle as I walk to take my place at the top to address some of my people. As I do so, I see it happen as a wave from the corner of my eye—some people turn their heads and see me, followed by another patch doing the same thing, and another, and another until the entire floor is looking at me. And then, some drop to their knees, followed by another group, and another, until they’re all on their knees for me. I can’t help but laugh at the sight as I come to the end of the elevated platform.

As I stop, I swing Lucille down off from my shoulders to the ground, resting the head of her on the grated platform, pressing down on the bottom of her handle with my hand. I lean over the railing with my other arm and I look amongst all of them, who have their heads turned down, as I press my tongue against my cheek. I slowly nod my head as I do until I stand up straight. I rest Lucille against the railing and take a few steps back. As I do, I see a few people walking through the back who are in the midst of doing their job, who weren’t originally on the floor when I came.

“C’mon on in, now—don’t be shy!” I say loudly, my voice echoing throughout the entire place, my hands raised up as I grin. All of them look at me with wide eyes and quickly fall to their knees. I chuckle aloud and shake my head.

“Fuck, c’mon, everyone! Look up and lighten up a bit—you’ve survived yet another fucking day! _Good fucking morning_!”

All their heads turn up in a wave that starts with those in the front, working it’s way to those in the back who had just come in. I grin cockily at the sight—at the sight of all my people, who I work my ass off to protect, listening and following my very instruction.

As I do, and my eyes make it to those in the back, I freeze for a moment—I freeze, but they don’t notice, because I’m still smiling.

I freeze because I see… _her_. I see what she looked like the last time I saw her standing in the back. Pale skin, dark messy hair surrounding her face, dressed in a mint blue hospital gown, wearing the gray socks the hospital gave her that morning, her teeth snapping down hungrily at me. But she doesn’t move from where she is—her arms aren’t stretched out—she isn’t trying to dig her teeth into anyone.

_Lucille._

I swallow and glance away, and see everyone still looking up at me. But from the corner of my eye I can still see Lucille—no, not _Lucille_ —not my fucking _Lucille_ —but the walker that Lucille became.

Why isn’t anyone attacking her? Why isn’t anyone killing her? Do they not see her, too?

_Could have filled a garden with all the flowers that you gave me—_

I suck in a breath and then clear my throat, quickly resuming where I once was, trying to ignore the sight of her. “Remember—keep working fucking hard so you can stay inside _here_ , where you don’t have to deal with the fucking _shit_ that is the world outside these walls, and you’ll live to see tomorrow! And the day after that, and the day after that.”

I see all of their heads nod.

“And for fucksake, everyone, _smile_! It may be the fucking apocalypse, but _fuck_ that doesn’t mean it ain’t a good fucking day!” I grin wildly, and I see most people smile at me.

My smile falls, the corners of my lips tugging down. “Good. Now back to it!” I shout with my hands raised. As soon as I do, everyone rises and scrambles back to what they were doing. I walk back to the railing and lean over it, my forearms crossed and pressed on the metal, watching at how things quickly things resume—as if I paused time for just a couple of minutes and then pressed play, and everything just picked up like where it was. I look back to where I saw her earlier—the zombie form of my wife—and find that she’s still there, her dead eyes staring into mine, her arms down at her sides, snarling at me with hunger and thirst. Yet everyone walks around her, not even noticing her existence.

_—But none of them were ours._

I lick my lips and stand back up, grabbing Lucille as I turn around. The platform shakes once more as I walk across it, one leather gloved hand buried in the pocket of my gray pants, and the other holding onto Lucille that’s over my right shoulder once more. I whistle as I walk away, my guards following me yet again, and make my way into the hallway I came from. I walk through the halls of The Sanctuary yet again, making my way in the direction where I know my right hand man Simon should be outside the building, within the perimeter though. And each time I turn down a hall, I see Lucille standing at the end—standing just as she was back on the bottom floor, her bright blue, dead eyes staring at mine, arms down by her sides, messy and knotted black hair frizzy down, teeth snapping down as she makes all those noises all the walking dead make. And each time I get down to the end of the hallway, I walk right past her, as if I never saw her in the first place—and as I make the turn down the next hallway, her head follows me. And then she reappears at the end of the hallway I just turned into.

_You know the problem with history—_

This keeps happening until I get outside and find Simon at the front gates, a few of the trucks ready to go, with him and my men waiting for me. Simon’s face lights up as I walk towards him, and he places his hands on his hips. “I heard it’s a good fucking morning to be alive?” he says, and he earns a laugh from me. I lean back a bit as I do, and I bite my lip a bit.

“Word get around that fucking fast? _Hot damn_ , I think they just set a new record this time!” I bellow out, and Simon laughs wildly in return.

Both our smiles fall and I straighten my posture. I tilt my head up a bit, motioning over towards the trucks. “Ready to roll out and pay Rick a visit?”

Simon nods his head and crosses his arms. “Three days early—sure going to light a fire under his ass. He’s going to be shitting his pants when he sees all of us come,” he says.

I take my hand out of my pocket and pat Simon’s shoulder roughly. “ _That’s the whole fucking point_ ,” I add. “Good ol’ Rick has to make up for the _SHIT_ his future serial killer son, Haircut, and Rosit _ah_ pulled last time.” I take Lucille off my shoulder and bring my gloved hand, which I used to pat Simon’s shoulder with, to the top of her, twisting her as I look at where Rosita’s bullet hit her. I frown as my fingers run over the barbed wire I had to add to cover up the hole.

I bring Lucille back over my shoulder, and as I do and look back to Simon, I see her standing on the other side of the gate— _Lucille._

_—It keeps coming back like weeds._

She looks just the same as before—just as the same as every time I’ve seen her down every corridor I turned down on my way here.

I bring my eyes back to Simon and nod my head. I walk past him and make my way over to the trucks. I open the door of the moving truck at the front of the three we’re taking, and climb onto the side platform. I place Lucille gently down on the passenger seat and then hop in, long legs swinging with me. I shut the door as I slide into my seat, and then twist my body towards the passenger seat. I reach over, groaning a bit as I stretch myself out. I take the seatbelt from the upper right corner of the seat and pull it over Lucille and buckle her in. I grin as I settle into my seat and pull my own seatbelt on. As I roll down the window I see Dwight standing guard at the top, looking at me like I’m fucking nuts to be buckling in a barbed wire baseball bat as if it’s an actual person. I snicker as I roll the window down to the bottom at his facial reaction and shake my head. “ _D_!” I shout, poking my head out.

He looks over to me, eyes wide and fully alert. “Gates?” he asks.

“Yeah, that too,” I answer, laughing when I see him looking at me confused as he anticipates what I’m going to say next. “But first, stop staring at fucking Lucille. She may be a beautiful fucking lady, but she doesn’t have a pussy. She’s a _fucking baseball bat_ , Dwight. You can’t put your _tiny dick_ in her. So why don’t you keep your fucking eyes on what’s _outside_ the gates, like you’re fucking _SUPPOSED TO BE DOING RIGHT NOW_!” I suddenly snap ferociously, clenching my jaw as I do. “Or your other side of your face is going to fucking match the grilled cheese side of your face when I’m fucking back!”

And I see it—I see that submissive look in his eyes and none of that bullshit side-eye glances that Rick gives me. I see Dwight look at me, scared shitless with the threat I just dumped on him, and how I loudly yelled and embarrassed the ever-living- _shit_ out of him in front of everyone. And he automatically turns away and opens the gate for us, looking forward to what’s outside the perimeter like he should have been this whole fucking time.

I turn on the engine of the truck and step on the gas, rolling out, with all the trucks falling behind. And as I do, I turn my head as we drive through the open gates, seeing Lucille’s walker body standing where she’s been this entire time, head turning as I drive past her, teeth still snapping down. Once I drive past where she was I turn my head forward and focus on driving.

********************************************************************************************

We make our return by the end of the day, the sun beginning to set as we roll in through the gates of The Sanctuary, all the trucks filled with half of Alexandria’s shit.

The entire time we were there—the entire time I walked through the place and gave Rick so much fucking crap and kept him in line—I saw Lucille. I saw her walker body just as I have since this morning, never once reaching out to try and attack me—just always snarling and staring at me.

_And when nothing feels enough, at least you taught me how to love—_

Am I fucking going insane? I mean, it was about goddamn time, considering the hell this fucking world has become.

I ignore my pestering thoughts as I get out of the truck, and all my men come out.

_—But she keeps growing back like weeds._

Simon walks over to me, hands on his hips, and motions towards the trucks. “Where you want us to put all their shit, Negan?”

“Same place as usual—put all the shit from my truck in my place tomorrow morning, because I’m about to go fuck one of my _hot ass_ wives and call it a night; everything else in the other trucks can be divided between the kitchen and the store to be sold for points.”

He nods his head in return. “Got it. I’ll see you in the morning—make sure to treat that pussy fucking _well_ ,” he laughs.

I give him a cocky grin and a wink. “Oh, you _know_ I know how to fucking lick a pussy,” I say, letting my tongue slide over my bottom lip. We both laugh as I turn away, and my face falls flat as I walk into building, making my way through the floors up to the corridor my wives live in. They each have their own rooms, each next door to the other.

I stop at the one at the very end of the hallway and knock on the door, then clear my throat. “Amber, _princess_ , you wanna fucking open up?” I say, and then pause for a second or so, “and I mean open up this door, _and_ those fucking _gorgeous fucking legs_ of yours!” I say, leaning back as I do, my available hand curled up in a fist shaking as I grin wildly. I look back to my two guards as I do so, finding their faces to still be straight, and shake my head chuckling lightly at them, and turn back to her door.

I hear some fumbling around with a mix of footsteps that grow closer to the door. Then, it unlocks, opening only a quarter of the way through. Her eyes are looking down, and her eyelashes flutter as she finally meets my gaze, those innocent blue eyes staring into mine.

“Yes, Negan?” she asks timidly.

I lick my lips, seeing her long and blonde hair cascade down, with loose curls at the bottom. I lean against the doorway slowly, tilting my head up a bit.

“You know why I’m here, darlin’.”

The slight blush on her plump, pale cheeks makes me smile a bit—just at how innocent she looks, although I know she’s far from that under the sheets…

Amber opens the door and steps to the side now.

“Well thank you for being so kind,” I say with a light chuckle as I walk in, and she shuts the door behind her.

We get straight to it—no skirting around it. She knows I’m here to get in and out (literally) and go back to my place. And so we do—no kissing, only my pants, her skirt, our underwear and shoes dropping to the floor before we get right to it.

I don’t see her as Amber and I slip into her bedroom, hands on each other’s bodies, my lips on her hot skin—I don’t see Lucille at all as I throw Amber down on the bed and she goes on all fours. I don’t see Lucille at all as I climb on top of Amber’s bed behind her, on my knees, readying myself to slide into her.

_And God knows that sex is—_

I don’t see her until I’m thrusting into Amber, when she appears in the corner of Amber’s bedroom, but this time…not as a walker.

For the first time today, I see Lucille as who she was before she died and turned—who she was before I had to kill her— _as my Lucille_. Her large brown eyes are boring into me, filled with disappointment and sadness, and I see the dark bags under her eyes.

I can’t help but blink, my mouth agape as I still thrust into Amber, caught off guard by the sight of her.

_—A way to feel a little bit less lonely._

I swallow, my eyes staring back into her lifeless dark brown irises. And that’s when I’m suddenly pulling myself out of her, my dick growing limp, and scramble off Amber’s bed. I hurriedly rush over to where my boxers and pants are, sliding them on, hands trembling as I try to quickly put my belts on. Amber sits up on her bed, looking at me with those sky blue eyes of hers, her skin flushed pink with the heat we caused.

“Negan, are you okay?” she asks, barely managing to croak that out.

I turn my head up to briefly look at her as I finish up my belts, and I nod my head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about me, sweetheart—you were just fine,” I say, and look back down as I throw on my shoes.

“Get yourself cleaned up and have a goodnight,” I mutter as I storm out her door, grabbing my beloved Lucille where I left her leaning up against the front door, swinging her over my shoulder as I walk out of Amber’s place. My men follow quickly behind me as I walk down the corridor over to my place. And once I open my door and shut it behind me, I find just how out of breath I am—just how much my heart is pounding furiously against my chest. I swallow and put Lucille down, leaning her against the wall next to the door, and immediately walk over to the bar in the living room. Sweat beads at the top of my forehead as I shakily pour some scotch into a glass, bring it to my lips, and throw the glass back to let the liquid run down and coat my throat all at once. I swallow it, eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment, taking relief in the pleasant burning sensation it leaves as a trail starting from the tip of my tongue to the pit of my stomach.

I open my eyes and bring my head back down as I place the glass on the counter. I turn around next.

_I thought I cut her at the root—_

And there she is—oh, there she is, but back to being a walker. She’s standing by my desk, snarling, her skin nearly gray and she’s covered in dried up blood, with her once-brown-eyes now glowing bright blue.

I suck in a breath and immediately walk past her and into my room, shutting the door behind me—as if that’ll keep her out—as if that’ll keep her from following me.

I push off my closed door and walk to my chest, opening a drawer and pulling out a fresh white t-shirt and pair of boxers. I slip out of all my clothes and put them in the hamper that’s in my closet, except for my leather jacket, which I hang up. I change into my shirt and boxers and walk to my bed, pull the covers back, climb in, and bury myself under my sheets.

_—But now I think my time is up—_

I look up and see Lucille standing in front of my door now, still as a walker. I sigh and turn my head away, knowing nothing will happen—knowing she wouldn’t dare to attack me, considering she never did all day.

_—Cause she keeps growing back like weeds._

But when I turn my head back to look at her—when I turn back, I find her quickly walking towards me, snarling with her teeth snapping constantly against each other, hands reaching out for me as she hurdles herself on top of my bed and on me. I scramble, my arms extending out in front of me, trying to push her off, her and I wrestling. I curse as I feel my feet and legs getting tangled up in the sheets, keeping me from being able to leave the bed, as I continue to fight and push her back. I clench my jaw as I try to untangle my limbs from the sheets, eyes glancing down momentarily to concentrate on that as I continue to hold her back to the best of my ability with my arms.

Until I feel her teeth sink down on my neck, my eyes widening as I glance up and feel her body completely pressed against mine as it use to be before—as it once was so long ago—with her mouth on my skin as it use to be so long before everything happened…

_Like weeds_

* * *

 

I jolt up in bed, my head raising from my pillow as I quickly sit up, breathing roughly through my mouth, feeling my heart pounding violently against my ribcage. I swallow as I shove the blankets and sheets stuck to my sticky body and hurriedly run over to my bathroom, my hand slamming down on the light switch. I turn to the mirror and pull my shirt to the side, looking at my reflection to see if it’s there—to see if the bite from her is there.

But it isn’t—there’s nothing. Nothing at all.

I let out a deep sigh, shutting my eyes tight for a few seconds. When I open them again, I look at the rest of me—at how every inch of my skin is glistening from how much I’m sweating, and at the dark bags under my eyes.

I turn away and crouch down, shaking my head.

 _It was just a nightmare—it wasn’t even real you fucking idiot,_ I tell myself. _It was just a nightmare—it fucking means abso-fucking-lutely nothing_ , I internally console myself.

I do so as I open the cabinets in my bathroom and take out a deep burgundy towel. I stand back up and turn to my shower, turning it on, and put my towel on the floor. I strip off my t-shirt boxers, climbing into the cold shower to cool down and clean my skin, and especially to calm me down.

Once I’m done, I dry myself off with the towel, climbing out with it wrapped around my waist. I pick up shirt and boxers I was wearing before and walk into my bedroom, open the closet, and put them in the hamper. I keep the closet door open as I turn to my chest and pull out a new shirt and pair of boxers. I take off the towel and put those on, then place the towel in the hamper. I pull out new sheets, another comforter, pillowcases, and blankets from my closet and place them on the floor. I walk to my bed and strip everything off of it and place those dirty linens in the hamper as well, then put on all the new sheets and everything I grabbed. I can’t stand sleeping and feeling dirty—not when I have the fucking luxury not to as the leader of this place.

I climb back into bed once I’m done, lying down, and feel myself instantly drift off to sleep.

********************************************************************************************

_Baby, just open your eyes to see._

This time I find myself inside an abandoned supermarket, just a day after the outbreak started, trying to raid the store to grab supplies. I’m focused yet on high alert as I put food and water into my large pack—until I hear the sudden sound of whistling.

I turn my head towards the front of the store, still hearing the whistling mixed in with the sound of one pair of footsteps. My hand goes to the gun in my front pocket, gripping the handle as I prepare for whomever I’m about to come across.

That’s when the person who the whistling and footsteps appears down the aisle I’m in, smiling as she sees me.

“Don’t worry about me—I just whistle to make sure there aren’t any walkers whenever I go somewhere,” she says as she walks towards me. I glance at her up and down as she does—she has long, lean calves with curvy thighs and hips that sway with every step she stakes. She’s wearing combat boots, jeans, and a shirt with a leather jacket. She has two straps on her thighs, each holding a knife, I notice. Her hair is short, brown, and straight, just barely touching her shoulders. Once she’s closer to me, I can tell even in the dark with the sunlight barely leaking into the windows, which are covered with wood and cardboard in the store, that her eyes are a bright hazel-green. She has a small smirk as she comes to stop next to me, turning to the shelves and beginning to take items off them.

“You don’t have to hold onto that, ya know,” she says as her eyes flicker about, choosing what to grab from what’s left, “I’m not going to do fucking _shit_ to you.”

I blink my eyes as I look at her profile, the grip on the gun in my pocket beginning to loosen. I turn my head away from her and go back to putting items in my back.

“I’m Joyce, what’s your name?”

Her voice is soft and just a bit high pitch, yet it’s filled with so much strength and confidence considering how she carries herself.

I turn my head and find her finally looking at me, waiting for my response.

“Hi, I’m Negan,” I say, flashing her a smile. Joyce smiles back at me, and I can’t help but notice her dimples as she does.

“Well, _Negan_ , would you care for this last jar of pickles at all?” she asks with both brows raised.

I shake my head, “Fuck no—I can’t stand those fucking things. Take it if you want.”

Joyce laughs at me, “Good, because these are the bane of existence,” she says, placing them back on the shelf. “Even if I was starving no way in _hell_ would you get me to take even _one single bite_ from a pickle.”

I laugh at her comment in return. I reach over and pat her back, and we both turn our heads to look at one another. “I think we’re going to get along just fine,” I say.

She grins at me in return. “Well, I happen to agree,” she says, and that smirk is back.

“Why don’t we split up whatever little is left in this dump?” Joyce suggests.

“Sounds good to me,” I say. And we both go through each aisle together, focused on getting whatever is leftover since it was raided when all the madness truly happened (although, considering the outbreak just happened it’s still crazy as fuck out there).

“So, Negan, ya got a group?” Joyce asks me at one point as we turn and walk down another aisle.

“Nope, just been me since it started,” I reply, glancing back and forth between the nearly empty shelves, “What about you?”

“Same here,” Joyce replies as she also looks at what little food is left, trying to see if there’s anything either or both of us might want.

We leave it at that, returning to finishing up dividing up everything that we both want.

When we walk out of the supermarket, both of us on high alert still, we don’t go separate paths. No, we both walk out together—we both automatically leave together, not saying anything about it, navigating our way through the apocalypse together.

********************************************************************************************

_She’s growing from inside me._

Two months—we manage to make it together, just us, out there for two months. Until…

Until what always happens in this damn new world we’re forced to live in—until what happens to everyone, and every last living thing left…

For her, it happens when we’re trapped by a walker hoard within the gates of the school I use to teach and coach at, because I knew of a stash of guns we kept locked up in the teacher’s lounge in case anything happened, and have the key to that.

We had successfully gotten all the guns, considering no one had even tried to get into the locker they were in despite the fact that the school had clearly been raided several times, when we got to the gate we came in at to find a shit ton of walkers coming in and swarming around us.

As we both used our guns and knives on them, grunting and groaning while killing the ones that came our way and those who tried to attack the other, more and more kept coming in.

“When the fucking fuckity _fuck_ is this shit going to stop?!” I shout over all the walkers moans as I shoot one in the head.

“Don’t fucking ask me!” Joyce shouts back, stabbing one in the head with one of her large knives, “I’m not their goddamn keeper!”

I chuckle at her comment as I slice the head off one walker with my knife. “Well, sweetheart, I think we’re gonna have to go back inside and take cover till they fucking finally—“ I pause as I stab another in the head, “—decide to leave us the _fucking fuck_ alone!”

But I don’t hear her reply to my comment this time—I don’t hear anything from Joyce. So I turn my head as I walk backwards due to all the incoming walkers, since there’s so many of them they’ve been forcing us to walk backwards this entire time.

And when I do, I see her back bump into the corner of the brick building that the school was, not realizing it until it’s too late.

“Joyce!” I shout her name at the top of lungs, suddenly bolting towards her, shoving and killing any walker that dares to get in my fucking way. “ _JOYCE!”_

“Don’t!” she shouts back in that voice of hers—in that pleasant voice of hers I’ve grown so accustomed to since that first day—that I grew to love every night when she’d start to sing around the fire, making me feel calm enough to finally sleep. “ _DON’T, NEGAN_!”

Joyce continues to try and get as many as she can, despite the fact that most of them are walking towards her and beginning to swarm her in that corner.

“Like fucking _hell_ will I leave fucking leave you like this!” I snap back, growing closer to her as I make my way through all the walkers, pushing and killing any of those that lurch after me, even though most are distracted by her.

That’s when I see her blood squirt up and out, splattering across her face as one walker digs into the spot between her neck and shoulder—and then another biting down on her wrist, bursting a main artery. The sound of her cry of utter and complete pain overpowers that of all the groans and animal noises coming from the walkers we’re surrounded by. All of them ignore me, rushing over and piling onto her as she slides down the brick wall and they feast on her.

I watch with wide eyes, my lips parted, the hand holding my gun trembling so much. I want to do it—I _need_ to do it for her so she doesn’t…

Then I swallow, hearing a gunshot go off from her direction.

I sigh, knowing what happened—knowing what she…somehow managed to do—that she managed to do something I’ve contemplated so much doing since Lucille but never had the fucking balls to do…

Then I turn away, running now that I have the chance with all the walkers distracted by her corpse, the bag of guns slung across my torso as I bolt towards our car parked outside the school, just wanting to get away from here, now that this place that I once funneled all my heart and soul into is forever tainted…

_And I just don’t know what I can do._

* * *

 

My eyes slowly open this time, blinking as they roll forward, and I stare up at my ceiling in the dark. I begin to sit up, trying to slow the beating of my heart. I can’t help but stare down at my blankets, eyes wide as I pull the covers back and climb out of bed.

I walk out of my bedroom and to where the bar is in my living room, and pour myself a glass of scotch. I lean on the counter, with the cool glass against my lips as I take small sips, looking out my open window that shows me the outside of the factory we’re housed in. All I see are the lights from the front gate, with the darkness of the night that barely allows me to make out even the shapes of the trees in the area, followed by all the stars that shine in the sky.

All the nights Joyce and I spent out there, the only light for us was the fire and the stars, as we camped out in the large SUV we had for those two months—I’m reminded of those nights, when she’d sing me to sleep with her sweet, lovely voice…

Once I finish my glass I place it down on the counter, deciding I’ll wash it out in the morning, and head back to bed.

 _I thought I cut her at the root_.

* * *

 

Another day come to an end—another day back at the grind of surviving at all costs finally coming to an end, only for us to recover and begin again tomorrow.

I sigh as I come to the door of my place, my guards stopping as always when I open the door and shut it behind me.

When I step inside, I find her curled up on the couch, a blanket over her, the fire that’s lit in the fireplace lighting up her features and making her caramel skin glow. Her head is turned down, reading a book, so into it that she doesn’t even hear the door shut.

I automatically walk over to her, not bothering to take off my shoes. I kneel down on the hardwood and take her into my arms, pressing my lips against hers with all that I have. I feel her petite body sink into mine, her plump lips molding and melting against my own.

“ _Mmmm_ ,” my chest rumbles against her, making her smile against my lips, “I fucking missed you, Calla,” I say, my lips brushing against hers as I do. I can’t help but smile too. My eyes open, finding her milk chocolate brown eyes opening as well, and I stare into the depths of hers, taking note in the beauty of the amber surrounding her pupils.

“Merry Christmas,” she replies before answering my statement. “Did you now?” she then asks, giggling a bit.

“Mhm,” I say, nudging my nose against her small one. I swear, everything about her is little and adorable—I don’t know what it is about her…

I feel Calla shift on the couch, moving to where she’s no longer lying on her side but sitting up, wrapping her arms around my neck. Mine slip down to be around her hips, and her legs part so I can wiggle in between them to pull her in closer.

“Yeah, and what did you miss?” Calla asks playfully.

I bite down on my lip and narrow my eyes on her. “You fucking…” I trail off, chuckling lightly.

“You know me, Negan,” Calla counters, then pecks my lips. “You can curse about me all you want, but _you know me_.”

“And that’s just one of the things I missed about you,” I add, making her laugh. I grin ear-to-ear as I hear that adorable laugh of hers echo in the living room—the cute _hehe_ ’s that a little girl makes when she laughs mixed in with that of a sexy woman. I don’t know what it is—I really don’t know what it is about her…

I bring one arm away from her and to my neck, unraveling my scarf and placing it on the coffee table. I take my other arm away from her to shrug off my jacket and place it on the table too. I stand up, making her arms slide down from my neck to be around my hips as I kick off my boots. I then climb onto the couch with her, and Calla lifts the huge fleece blanket to share it with me. I sit on my knees in between her legs, having her back pressed against the arm of the couch with my arms around her hips again, hers circling around my neck again.

“I missed that adorable laugh of yours,” I say, and bring a hand to her face, my thumb pressed against her plump upper lip where her cupid bow is, “those sexy fucking lips of yours.” Calla smiles as I say this, her round yet sharp cheeks rising. “Your eyes and freckles—your voice—your fucking delicious, sexy as fuck body,” I lick my lips, and Calla bites down on her bottom lip now. My thumb brings itself to her bottom lip, slowly running the tip across it. “Just…” I pause, letting out a short breath.

“Just everything about you.”

Her tongue comes out to run over her bottom lip, and once it hits my thumb it wraps itself around it, and I place my thumb in her mouth. She looks deep into my eyes, and I see it—I see that glint in her eyes that’s filled with care, lust, and…

_And love._

I bring my thumb from her mouth and cup her cheek with my hand now. “Look behind you,” she says, interrupting the silence. I lift my brows and turn my head slightly away from her, seeing something tall and glistening near my desk.

A Christmas tree, decorated with stringed lights and a few ornaments here and there. I laugh and turn my head back to her. “You really were serious about putting one up while I was gone today, huh?”

Calla nods her head. “You know how much I love Christmas,” she smiles.

I can’t help but shake my head at her as I smile. “I know,” I reply.

I press my lips to hers, and I kiss her hard and deeply. Calla tugs on me as her tongue lips into my mouth.

Eventually she breaks the kiss and stands up from the couch, the blanket sliding off her body and pooling on the couch cushion she was just on.

She stands in front of me, the right corner of her lips tugged into a smirk, with one hand on her hip. My eyes go down, seeing where her wild, curly hair stops at her shoulders. Her sharp collarbone is exposed, along with her lean yet muscular arms, because of the blue, silk, spaghetti strap top she’s wearing with white polka dots on it. It has small white buttons that trail down the middle of it that my eyes follow, leading me to the tiny matching shorts she’s wearing that stop at her upper thighs, flaunting her incredibly long, cury, and lean legs.

I throw the blanket off the body and to the side of the couch and stand up. I lick my lips as I lurch forward to her, growling as I throw her over my shoulder. Calla yelps then giggles loudly, and I slap her round ass in return.

“And I _definitely_ missed that, too,” I say with a cocky smile.

“Missed what?” she says, and I hear that flirtatiousness in her voice, “My ass or you coming home to me dressed like this?”

I laugh as I walk to our bedroom. “Both,” I reply. “And just for pulling that on me, you’re in for a fucking punishment, princess,” I say, slapping her ass again before opening the door. Calla yelps in return, but this time it’s mixed with a slight moan.

After I shut the door I place her down, her back facing me. I circle my arms around her waist and tug her in close. When I do, Calla bends over a bit, shaking her ass against my crotch, and I bite down on my lip as I feel myself grow incredibly hard.

“Punish me, then, daddy,” she says as she does.

I feel my front teeth digging so hard into my lip that I draw blood just from her actions and words alone. I bring a hand to her head and grip her jaw, forcing her to stand back up straight with her back completely pressed against my chest. I bring my head down to her neck, kissing her and nibbling down on her skin, making her moan.

“Just wait till I fuck you with this hard dick of mine, princess,” I growl, thrusting my hips forward against her so she can feel my huge, hard bulge.

* * *

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

My eyes snap open, seeing the ceiling again, but this time I can see that it’s white since the sunlight is beginning to spill into my room through the partially open blinds.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

I groan as I sit up in bed, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter under my breath. I swing my legs to the side and stand up.

_Beep. Beep. Bee—_

“Shut the fucking fuck _UP_ already!” I snap as I slam my hand down on the button of my alarm clock, and I sigh in relief now that it’s stopped.

I look down, finding myself to be filled with a mix of relief yet slight disappointment to see I don’t have morning wood considering the dream I just woke up from…

I get ready and start my morning as usual, and leave my place once I’m done. My guards follow behind me as I walk through the corridors of The Sanctuary, on my way to meet with Simon as I usually do every morning. This time I meet him at the front gate, him walking over to me from the guard towers once he spots me.

“Merry Christmas,” Simon greets me, and we come to a stop. He tilts his head up a bit, in direction towards the factory that is The Sanctuary.

“Early this morning, like crack of fucking dawn, the guards found someone outside the gates. Poor girl was about to die of dehydration. They brought her in to see Dr. Carson.”

I nod my head. “Talk about a fucking Christmas miracle,” I remark. “She fucking awake yet?”

“I don’t know—haven’t heard anything since they brought her in a few hours ago. I can go check for ya, though,” he offers.

I shake my head. “Nah, nothing I can’t fucking take care of.” I reach forward and pat him on the shoulder with my available hand. “Good job,” I tell Simon. “Make sure to give yourself a little reward,” I say with a smile, then turn away to walk back inside.

As soon as I make to the infirmary and walk in, Dr. Carson jumps a bit from where he stands, turning his head to see me.

“So where the fuck is she?” I ask, stopping in the doorway.  
“N-Negan!” he remarks, blinking his eyes rapidly. Then he turns toward the room connected to the examination room he’s standing in, that room next door having a few cots in it for situations like this. “I think she’s asleep still…”

“Do I look like I give a fucking fuck?” I ask with a raised brow, then shake my head and chuckle at him as I walk across the room and past Dr. Carson, going straight to the room connected to this one. As I pass him, Dr. Carson quickly gets in front of me and goes to the door, opening it for me.

I walk right in, seeing where she is in the cot furthest away from the door. I see that she’s sitting up, in the midst of drinking a glass of water. I stop in front of her cot, watching as she nearly inhales the glass of water desperately. Once she’s done she places it on the nightstand beside her, and turns her head to me.

I blink my eyes, met with her pair of milk chocolate irises, with a bit of amber around her pupils, staring into mine.

My eyes widen as I look at her face—at the sight of her caramel skin—the light freckles on her sharp yet slightly round cheeks—the tight and wild curls that stop at her shoulders.

_How she looked at me with so much love while we were curled up on my couch, under that blanket, before I kissed her yet again._

I swallow, shoving that flashback to the dream I woke up from barely an hour ago to the back of my mind.

“I’m Negan,” I say with a smile. I tilt my head up a bit, motioning towards her.

“Hi, I’m Calla.”

_At least you taught me how to love._

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify, there are three dream sequences in this fic, with Negan waking up in between Dream 1 (which was about Lucille) and Dream 2 (about Joyce, an OFC of mine I made who he meets and sticks with starting the second day of the apocalypse), as well as Dream 2 and Dream 3 (which is about my OFC from my current Negan multi-chapter fic called "Best Mistake," named Calla), and what comes after Day 3 is Christmas morning where he meets Calla after just waking up from the last dream. 
> 
> I was really excited to take this on because I wanted to somewhat explore Negan's character through this prompt. I hope ya'll enjoyed it, especially since I loved planning and writing it out!
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone! 
> 
> xxx
> 
> \- Jennifer


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